


30 years is a long time

by LiterallyJustAngst



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyJustAngst/pseuds/LiterallyJustAngst
Summary: After coming back from their boat trip in time for the younger twins's second summer in Gravity Falls, Stanford starts to isolate himself again.No one is very worried since its probably just linked to having his lab back.Everyone starts to wish that that's all it is.Meanwhile, Ford is slipping.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This story can be troubling, so please read the tags! I wrote this impulsively because I feel like Ford's possible trauma is not addressed well enough.

Stan stretched as he woke up. He’d passed out the night before on his favorite armchair. His back ached, but that might have been the result of any number of things. 

Ford had left to his lab after dinner last night, though he hadn’t really eaten anything. Stan wasn’t too worried. Ford tended to eat less when he got excited about something. 

Today was the day that Dipper and Mabel were coming back for their second summer here. 

Stan had cleaned the house while Ford spent most of his time making sure the lab would be safe if Dipper decided to visit it. 

Now, there was about an hour before the younger twins arrived.

Stan settled for making breakfast -pancakes, as per usual (Ford scolded him for how unhealthy it was, but Stan could care less.)

When he’d made about eight, he went to call fetch his brother.

“Hey! Ford! Breakfast!” He called down to the lab.

There was some brief shuffling.

“No thanks, Stanley! I woke up two hours ago and I’ve already eaten!” 

Stan checked his watch. 6:00 in the morning. It seemed impossible to him to wake up any earlier than six, but he wouldn’t put waking up at four past his twin.

“Alright! Let me know if you change your mind!” He called back after a moment.

“Will do!” Came the response from the lab.

Turning around, he went back to the kitchen. He certainly couldn’t eat all eight pancakes by himself, so he decided to just save the rest for the kids that would arrive within half an hour.

By the time he’d finished eating, there were ten minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive. 

Moving back towards the lab, he called for his brother. 

“Hey, sixer! The kids are getting here soon! Get your ass up here!” 

More shuffling.

“Right! One second!” 

After a few more seconds of shuffling, Ford appeared at the door to the lab. 

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed a bit. Ford didn’t look too fresh. His hair was messy and uncombed, his clothes were ruffled, he looked paler than usual, and the bags under his eyes looked like he’d smeared black eyeshadow over them.

However, before Stan got a chance to confront his sibling about this, there was an enthusiastic knock at the door.

Stan turned to open said door, but before he could even grab the handle, it burst open.

Mabel shrieked in glee and barreled into the con-artist. Dipper did the same to Ford, though less violently.

Ford flinched slightly at the sudden attack, but he chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Grunkle Stan! I’ve missed you!!!” Mabel yelped, squeezing the older man tightly.

Stan chuckled, lifting her with a groan. 

“Whew! Either you’ve grown or I’ve just gotten older!” Stanley wheezed, spinning the girl around before putting her back down with a huff. Mabel giggled, grinning like mad and darting past him to where Stanford was kneeling next to Dipper. (Somehow, despite Dipper going through puberty, Ford was still taller than the boy even while kneeling.)

Mabel charged the scientist, taking him by surprise and knocking him over.

Ford wheezed, sitting up from where he’d been knocked back and brushing his hands through his somehow-even-messier hair.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mabel!” He said while chuckling. 

Stan noticed that his brother was sitting with his legs at a weird angle and that he was sort of cradling his arms. 

Before Stanley said anything, Ford stood up and dusted himself off tediously. 

“Well then, kids, you should go get settled in the attic. We’ll catch up later, alright?” The scientist said with a small smile. 

Mabel grabbed her four bedazzled bags while Dipper grabbed his backpack and a small duffel bag. Both twins rushed up the stairs and Ford cast an oddly sad glance in the direction they’d run off.

Before Stan could think to mention Ford’s odd behavior, the scientist headed back towards the lab.

“Whoa- hey! Ford?! Where the hell d’you think you’re going?!” The con-man called out.

Ford didn’t even slow down.

“I think I left a burner on. I need to go turn it off. Call me back up if it’s important.”

Stan stood alone after his brother left. He sighed and headed back to the living room to wait for the kids to come back down. 

A small, nagging part of his brain told him that something was very wrong with Ford, but he just told himself that it was Ford being weird, as per usual. 

The nagging feeling of something being terribly amiss didn’t go away.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is getting worried about Ford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy!

Maybe two hours later, the kids had finally finished setting their room up for the summer.

Mabel rushed downstairs, followed shortly after by Dipper.

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan!!! How was your boat trip with Grunkle Ford?!” The girl asked, practically bouncing with excitement. Stan laughed, patting the space on the armchair next to him, which Mabel gladly took. As Stan reached to pull out the photo album that Ford had insisted on keeping, he noticed Dipper look around the room dejectedly.

“Hey, um...where’s Grunkle Ford?” The boy asked, playing with the bottom of his shirt.

Stan grimaced slightly.

“Yeah, uh, he had to go back down to the lab for a bit because he forgot a burner or something.”

Dipper looked down, his expression thoroughly breaking Stan’s heart into a million little pieces.

“Tell you what, kid. He should be done by now, try to go fetch him!” Stan said with a friendly smile. Dipper looked around anxiously for a second before shooting the older man a smile and darting towards the lab. 

Dipper quickly input the code. The door gave a chirp and swung open.

There was very little noise from the lab, so Dipper was prudent when heading down the stairs.

The lab was a mess, more than before. Papers were strewn all over the floor and Dipper had to step carefully over something that looked a bit like a broken mirror.

As if all that wasn’t concerning enough, the unavoidable feeling that something wasn’t right reached a crescendo when he finally found Ford.

The scientist was sitting, half-hunched over his desk. One of his hands was messily bandaged and blood was faintly visible through the thin gauze. He was mumbling something under his breath and his undamaged hand was bunched up in his hair, tugging at it in a way that seemed like it should be painful.

“G-Grunkle Ford?” Dipper called out, stepping a bit closer but staying a respectful distance away. Ford startled at his voice, straightening up and spinning to face Dipper. Dipper’s concern only grew when he saw how unhealthy Ford looked. He hadn’t noticed it earlier since he was too caught up with being back and seeing everyone again. 

Ford’s hair was messy. His face seemed sunken like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. His skin was deathly pale and his greyish complexion contrasted painfully with the worryingly dark circles around his eyes.

“Ah! Dipper! Do you need something?” The scientist said, running a hand through his hair, a nervous tick he’d picked up in college. Dipper, now thoroughly worried, didn’t miss how violently the hand itself shook.

“Y-yeah! Um, no? I just wanted to see you!” Dipper stammered. He really wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never seen his Grunkle like this.

Ford looked confused. 

“What? Why?” The scientist asked. Dipper really had no idea how to respond to that.

“Why what?” The boy stepped a bit closer and felt his heart leap into his throat when Ford flinched almost imperceptibly.

“Why would you wa-,” The scientist cut himself off before he could finish that thought. Ford turned back around, hunching back over the desk and beginning to tug at his hair again. “Nevermind. I have work to do, Dipper. Maybe tomorrow.”

Dipper recognized that tone as Ford’s ‘That’s final’ voice. When he used that voice, there was really no use arguing. Nothing he said would change his mind.

Without another word, Dipper headed back up the stairs. 

He cast a quick glance back at the scientist at his desk and could swear that the man’s shoulders were shaking now.

He rushed up the stairs, heading to the living room where Stan and Mabel were still looking over the pictures. Stan looked up when Dipper entered the room.

“Hey, kid. You didn’t manage to get my brother to come back up? Figures. He hardly ever leaves that pit now. Must be glad to be home.” Stan looked back down, already moving to turn the page to the next pictures.

“Grunkle Stan, I think something’s wrong with Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said before Stan could completely move on. Stan looked back up.

“Like what?” The con-man asked. Dipper crossed his arms, though it was more of a comforting gesture than a defensive one.

“I don’t really know. He looked really...unhealthy. Like, his skin looked almost grey and he looked like he smeared paint under his eyes!” Dipper said, uncrossing his arms and gesturing (Stan noted that the action reminded him of how Ford always moved a lot while talking). Dipper frowned. “I saw what it looks like to go too long without food during Weirdmageddon, and he looks like he hasn’t eaten in forever.” Now it was Stan’s turn to frown.

“Maybe the idiot’s started taking nutrient pills again...I tried to wane him off of those during our trip. It’s not good for him to survive off pills and coffee.” The older man muttered, almost to himself, before taking another sip of soda. Dipper began to fidget again.

“And there’s more too! He was bleeding!” Stan nearly spit out his soda.

“Why didn’t you start with that!?” The con-man asked.

“Well, it wasn’t that bad! His hand was just wrapped up and there was blood soaking through! And he also started tugging at his hair like crazy! And he was shaking!” Dipper yelped, his concern making him talk faster than usual. 

Stan frowned. 

“What do you mean ‘tugging at his hair’?” 

Dipper took a few steps forward and then, with no warning, tugged sharply at Stan’s hair. 

Stan yelped.

“Hey, what the hell!! Do you want me to go bald even faster!? That hurt!” 

Dipper backed up. 

“That’s how hard he was pulling!”

Stan grimaced as he gingerly smoothed his hair back out. With a sigh, he passed the album to Mabel and stood up. 

“I’ll go check on him. I won’t be long.” 

Stan headed for the lab, uncertainty and concern making his brow furrow.

Something was wrong here.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford sinks just a little too deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains relatively graphic self-harm, if it triggers you, proceed with caution (and maybe read something else).

Stan entered the basement, glad that Ford hadn’t yet gotten around to his plan of changing the password for the door. 

Stan noticed the papers on the floor and the mirror, but he hardly paid any attention to them.

No, he was worried about his brother.

As soon as the con-man entered the room with his twin’s desk, his heart began to thud a little faster. 

He could tell why Dipper had been worried.

Ford looked like how the younger boy had described him, but now he’d moved both of his hands to tug at his hair. The bandage now had a considerable red spot on it and he could hear Ford mumbling under his breath.

Stan approached carefully.

“Hey, sixer? You alright?” 

Ford tensed up immediately, the constant drone of his mumbling stopped too. The scientist slowly pulled his hands away from his hair and turned around. 

“Stanley. Is something wrong?” 

Stan frowned. 

“You look like shit.” He said, taking in how thin his brother looked now that he paid attention. Ford laughed, it was cold and self-loathing.

“I hadn’t noticed.” 

Stan’s frown deepened. 

“Ford, when’s the last time you ate? Or slept?” Ford didn’t respond, instead settling for turning back to his desk and starting to write something. Stan took a step forward, “Ford I’m serious. You aren’t looking too fresh.” 

“I’m fine, Stanley. And I’m busy.” 

Stan took a few more steps closer.

“Ford, you can’t stay down here if it costs you your health.” 

Ford tightened his grip on the pen he was holding until Stan was worried it would explode. 

“I’m busy, Stanley. Leave me alone.” 

Stan grimaced. 

“Sixer, I’m being serious. I need you to come upstairs so I can get you something to-” Before Stan could finish talking, Ford stood. His sudden movement knocked his chair over.

“Leave. Me. Alone!” The scientist hissed.

Stan stumbled back a step in surprise. Familiar anger bubbled in his chest, rising up his throat like bile. 

“Jeez, fine! Whatever miraculous science project you’re working on must be much more important than your family! Just like the damn portal that caused all of this!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Stan regretted them. He saw his brother’s shoulder start to shake. "Ford, I-"

“Leave. Now.” Ford’s voice was low and dangerous. 

Stan didn’t need to be told twice. He turned around and headed up the stairs. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, he heard an electrical whirr. 

Turning around, he saw the light fade from the keypad. 

Ford must have turned the power off to the door. It wouldn’t budge until power was restored.

Stan grimaced. Man, he’d royally fucked that up.

Heading back to the living room, he smiled a bit when he saw Dipper’s head dart up towards him. 

“Grunkle Stan! Is he okay?!” The boy asked, sounding concerned.

Stan gave him a small smile. 

“Yeah, he seems fine.” ‘same prick as ever’, he didn’t bother adding.

Dipper sighed in relief. 

Stan sat down next to the kids and eagerly started talking about monsters they’d found on their travels.

~Meanwhile, in the basement~

Ford pulled at his hair so hard, he almost thought he would tear it out. He stood, quickly pressing a big red button he’d installed as a safety measure long ago to remove power from the door temporarily.

He screamed in frustration and punched the wall, deliberately using the same hand he’d punched a mirror with earlier. It hurt like hell, but he felt his mind clear the tiniest bit.

Heading back towards his desk, he found that his mind was entering what he’d come to call ‘Panic mode’. His thoughts were brief and cycled, usually darker thoughts than he’d like to acknowledge. 

Opening the drawer to his desk, he found a scalpel. Grimacing, he rolled his sleeve up with shaking fingers.

He took just a moment to look at his arm. It was marred with scars new and old, many from his ‘travels’ in the portal, and just as many from his own hand when it all got to be too much. 

He hadn’t done this in a while, not since he’d come back from the portal. A few that were still bleeding littered his arm from earlier today when he’d woken up after a nightmare and had to forcefully calm himself down. 

As his shaking hand placed the edge of the blade against his wrists, he focused on the sensation. The sharp sting and morbid fascination as it first made it through the skin and the throbbing pain that spread once he lifted the scalpel. 

He let his mind remind him of why he was doing this, why he deserved this. 

'You did this. You let your father kick Stan out, you brought Bill to Gravity Falls, you listened to him blindly and built the portal, you gave Stan that scar on his back, you were dumb enough to even imagine for a moment that Dipper would want to stay here, you failed to seal the rift in the first place, you missed that shot on the bell tower, you let yourself get captured, you let Dipper and Mabel get caught because you couldn’t fucking thank your brother, you put everyone in danger, you nearly killed everyone, you sat and watched as Bill nearly killed those kids, and you pulled the trigger on your brother.'

Once he finally snapped out of his thoughts, it was because his knees gave out beneath him. 

Looking at his arm, he realized he’d gotten carried away. Hardly any skin was visible and any flesh that wasn’t cut was coated in blood. 

Sighing, he reached for the first aid kit he’d taken to keeping by his desk. He wrapped it up as best as he could with his still-shaking hands and leaned back against the wall. 

He was struck with a thought, not one he hadn’t had before, but now it returned with renewed vigor.

'Everyone would be better off if you were dead.'

There wasn’t much else that had to be said after that. The worrying part, however, was that Ford agreed. There really was no counter-argument. Everything he touched fell apart, he’d be doing the universe a favor by removing himself from the equation.

Standing back up on shaky legs, he looked at the floor in front of him that was now splattered with red from where his arm had dripped. 

He just grabbed a towel and tossed it over the spot. He wouldn’t be around much longer, so there was no use in trying to make his living space habitable anymore.

He looked at the paper he’d begun to write and brushed it aside, grabbing a new sheet and picking up his pen. He started writing:

'Dear Stanley,'

~Meanwhile, upstairs~

Stan walked by the door to the basement and frowned. The light was still off. He’d hoped that Ford would be over whatever little tantrum he’d had by now. 

He shrugged the familiar, looming unease away. 

Ford would be fine tomorrow.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever the fast one to push things you don't want to see behind you, huh Stanley?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Enjoy~

The next morning, power was restored to the door.

When Stan, as per usual, called for Ford, he was shocked to see his brother actually come up.

Ford didn’t really make eye contact, but he had brushed his hair. The bags under his eyes were the same, if not worse, and his complexion remained unpleasantly pallid, but he was here!

Stan asked him if he wanted to eat, silently begging for his brother to say yes, but Ford shook his head and said he’d already had something. 

Stan just decided to give him some time, maybe tomorrow he could start to work at his twin’s poor self-care habits. 

For now, Ford sat at the table and drank probably way too many cups of coffee. Stan decided to cut him off after what he thought might have been his eighth full mug. 

The two younger twins laughed and talked and threw pancakes at each other, though Stan noticed Dipper casting Ford worried glances here and there.

When Mabel announced that she wanted to go gnome hunting (Dipper agreed, slightly less enthusiastically) Stan laughed and agreed to come along. He cast Ford a quick, pleading glance and his brother sighed.   
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to come along.” he finally conceded. 

Mabel whooped with glee and Dipper cheered along. Stan joined in just to piss Ford off. 

Ford rolled his eyes and stood.

“I’ll go get some supplies, I’ll be right back.”

Within a few minutes, the scientist came back with an armload of stuff. Nets for Mabel and Dipper along with some things he called ‘bargaining chips’ in case the gnomes decided to try and take one of them as their ‘queen’. 

They headed out to the woods, Mabel taking the lead, followed closely by Dipper and Stan. 

The con-man tried not to be too worried by the fact that his usually incredibly enthusiastic brother was taking up the rear. 

They did manage to find some gnomes, along with a few other critters. 

By the time the two younger twins were satisfied with their adventuring for the day, Stan was wheezing. He wasn’t really used to walking long distances since boats don’t usually involve lots of hiking.

Ford appeared to be holding up alright, but for some reason, he kept running his fingers over his forearm. 

Stan didn’t think much of it.

When they got back to the Mystery Shack, Stan was surprised that Ford didn’t immediately rush back to the basement. The sun was already starting to set, and Ford seemed nervous about something.

They sat down and had dinner, Ford still didn’t eat, but Stan tried not to worry too much. 

After dinner, they all watched TV. Around the younger twins' bedtime, Ford stood and pulled three neatly enveloped pieces of paper from his coat. 

He smiled at them. 

“Now, I was meaning to give you these a while back, but I guess I just never got around to it.” He handed each of the three their own note. “You can open them tomorrow, but promise you won’t open them tonight.” 

Dipper nodded, Stan sort of shrugged, and Mabel gave him a thumbs up. 

Ford looked outside. The sun had fully set and the moon was just rising. 

“This is probably a weird time to say this, but I just wanted to tell the three of you that I love you, all of you.” 

Dipper smiled, as did Stan, while Mabel gave a huge grin and pulled Ford into a hug. 

Nobody noticed that Ford flinched when Mabel crushed his arms against his body.

Everyone headed their separate ways, the twins to the attic, Stan to his room, and Ford to the basement. 

Once the scientist reached the bottom of the stairs, he sank down onto his knees, shaking like a leaf.

They had the notes. 

Now it was time for his turn.

Ford stood on unsteady legs and walked to his desk.

He grabbed his gun and examined it in the dull light. 

This is it.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! A longer one will come out soon!

Dipper couldn’t shake the worry he felt for Ford. 

He’d noticed a few odd things during the day, but the one thing he’d noticed that really made him think something was wrong was the slight splatter in the ink on Stan’s envelope.

Dipper thought it looked like a tear had smeared the writing.

As soon as he went to his room, he sat on his bed and stared at his note. Something was very wrong with Ford. Maybe reading this would shine some light on what was going on?

A small voice in his head piped up, ‘But you promised you wouldn’t! That would be betraying his trust.’

Dipper shook his head slightly as if the action could clear the anxiety clouding his mind.

Finally, Dipper could wait no more. 

He, with much reluctance, tore the note open and unfolded it, starting to read. 

‘Dear Dipper,   
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I’m sure that you will be confused and hurt, at first, but I’m not something to be dwelled on. You are one of the smartest boys I know. Never let anyone tell you that you are a freak, or that the way you think and act is ‘unnatural’. You are better than I ever was, or ever will be. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better Grunkle, or a better mentor. Looking back, I don’t think I was a good anything. I’ve caused more damage than I’ve fixed, and I’m afraid that if I continue on living, I’ll only cause more damage. This is for the best, and I love you.  
Your Grunkle Ford’

Dipper’s heart pounded in his ears as he read the note. 

This couldn’t be happening. This COULDN’T be happening.

He stood, gripping the note tightly and turning to look at Mabel. 

His sister sat in her own bed, looking at him with concern evident on her face as he stood there.

“Mabel, something is very very wrong. I need you to get Grunkle Stan to read his note, now. I’m not kidding. This is urgent.” 

With that, Dipper practically ran downstairs, completely bypassing Stan’s door and instead running to the basement. He typed in the code and scrambled down the stairs faster than he’d ever done before. Dashing into the lab, he saw Ford, standing hunched over his desk, staring at something he could see glinting slightly in the dull light. 

“G-Grunkle Ford?” Dipper’s heart was pounding faster than he thought possible, it hadn’t felt so close to thudding out of his chest since Wierdmageddon. Ford stilled, not turning around, but Dipper could tell he’d heard because his shoulders tensed up visibly. “Grunkle Ford I-” Dipper cut himself off, unable to continue. 

Ford finally turned to look at his great-nephew. Dipper scanned his face, searching for any sign that he’d just hallucinated this whole nightmarish scenario. Ford’s eyes darted down to Dipper’s hand, recognizing his handwriting. 

Ford paled immediately, his face losing what little color was left in it. 

That was his note.

~Meanwhile, with the other two~

Mabel stood dumbfounded for a couple of seconds before her mind finally caught up with the situation and she darted down to Stan’s room. She didn’t know what was wrong, but it must have been pretty bad to get that reaction out of Dipper.

She knocked frantically on Stan’s door. The con-man opened after maybe three knocks. 

“Jeez, kid. What do you need now?” Noting the panicked expression on his grand-niece's face, his own eyebrows drew together in concern. “Hey, what’s wrong, pumpkin?” 

Mabel launched herself into her explanation.

“I-I don’t know! Dipper saw something in his note from Grunkle Ford and he got really scared and he said I needed to tell you to read your note too!” 

Stan paused for a second, trying to process that mess of word-vomit. He turned around, stepping into his room and grabbing the note he’d left on his dresser. He turned the light on and tore the envelope open. He started to read aloud. 

‘Dear Stanley,  
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I can’t decide if you’ll be angry or sad, but I hope you’ll forget about me quickly. I’ve wronged you more times than I can count. I want you to be kind to yourself, Lee. None of this is your fault. No, everything is my fault. I caused this whole mess in the first place. Do you remember how you once said I was, ‘always the good twin’ and you were, ‘the bad twin’? I can tell you now with no hesitation that you always were and always will be better than me. I’m sorry I was such a terrible brother. In fact, I don’t think I’ve done a single redeemable thing for you since I was born. So, for once, let me do something for you. Everything I touch falls apart. I promise you that everyone will be better off when I am dead. I love you, Stanley.   
Your brother, Stanford.’

As Stan read his letter, his blood ran cold. Mabel covered her mouth, tears already slipping down her cheeks. This wasn’t just some dumb apology letter, as he’d suspected when Ford had given him it. 

This was a suicide note.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment of truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the late-ish upload! This one is longer! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy!~

Ford stood deathly still, staring at Dipper’s hand where the note was slightly crumpled up.

His hand that was still holding the gun on his desk tightened. 

“D-Dipper...did- did you read that?” He asked, keeping his voice low and soothing but internally cursing how shaky it sounded. Dipper nodded.

“G-Grunkle Ford-,” The boy stopped talking suddenly, his eyes finally noticing the metal object faintly reflecting light under Ford’s other hand. “Grunkle Ford ...w-what is that?” Ford followed Dipper’s eyes to the gun he was holding.

“Dipper...everything is fine, just go back to bed. Give me the note and get some rest.” Ford said, raising his free hand in a placating gesture and slowly reaching for the paper.

Dipper took a step back, fear evident in his eyes.

“N-No! Show me what you’re holding!” The boy insisted, tears building in his eyes.

Ford didn’t move, couldn’t move. He couldn’t back down now, he just couldn’t. This was for everyone’s good. 

At that moment, the scientist heard the door to the basement lab open. Stan and Mabel rushed down the stairs, stopping about the same distance away from Ford as Dipper. 

Stan, significantly taller and at a better angle than Dipper, could tell immediately that Ford’s hand rested on a gun. 

Mabel started to take a step or two forward, but Stan immediately held her back.

Stan stepped up instead, walking slow and extending his hands in a way he hoped was relaxing. 

“Ford, come on...let’s talk about this.” He began. Ford picked the gun up, his hand shaking. Stan froze, his eyes locked on the weapon.

“There isn’t anything to talk about, Stanley.” Ford’s eyes began to dart around, frantic and looking for a way out of this. “You shouldn’t be here, Lee. I don’t want you and the kids to see.” He began to hyperventilate. 

“Just give me the gun, Stanford. We can figure something out.” Stan felt tears threatening to slip from his eyes. He was aware of Dipper and Mabel crying behind him. 

Ford’s eyes lingered on the kids and he started shaking more intensely. 

“Get the kids out, Lee. Now. They don’t have to see this.” Stan’s eyes flickered to the two twins behind him. “Get them out, please.” Ford’s voice began to shake. 

Stan shot Dipper and Mabel a pleading glance. The two turned with much reluctance and slowly headed back to the stairs. 

“Alright. They’re gone now, Ford. Let’s put the gun down and talk. There’s a better way.” Stan began to very slowly creep closer again. 

Ford lifted the gun to his head with increasingly shaky hands and pressed the barrel to his temple. Stan inhaled sharply, freezing immediately.

“Is there, Stanley? Is there a better way?” The scientist asked, his voice shaky and bordering on hysteria, “Because I don’t see any better way! Everything I touch is ruined, everyone I love has some terrible, traumatic thing happen to them, and every damn time I trust someone, I get stabbed in the back!” Ford’s free hand began to tug at his hair, the hand holding the gun pressing it harder against his head.

“Stanford, please! Just talk to me! It doesn’t have to end like this!” Stan took a hesitant step closer. “Ford, please, I’m begging you! Just wait for a second and we can talk about what’s going on instead, alright!?” Ford’s grip on the gun loosened and tears built in his eyes. 

Suddenly, Ford released a broken sob and fell to his knees, still holding the gun to his head. 

Stan darted forward, pulling the gun from Ford’s hand just as his finger tightened on the trigger. The con-man tossed the gun behind him. Ford whimpered at the loss of his weapon.

“S-Stan please...give me the g-gun, please. I-I need it! God, if you w-won’t even let me do this one thing f-for you, then s-shoot me yourself, Stanley! B-But dear god p-please just let me die!” Ford hissed, curling up against the wall and clawing at his arms and hair.

Stan noticed tears spilling down his own face now that the gun was out of his brother’s grasp. Stan pulled his shaking brother into his arms. Ford tensed up, pushing against Stan’s chest for a second. 

“I promise, it’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.” Stan said, running his hand through Ford’s messy hair and rubbing circles on his back like he used to as kids. 

The scientist slumped forward, finally going limp and resting his head on Stan’s shoulder. Ford’s hands reached around him, hands gripping onto the fabric of Stan’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him together. 

Ford began to sob, though he was nearly silent. Big, heaving sobs wracked his body to the point where Stan was sure that it was painful. 

Nearly half an hour later, Ford had almost stopped crying. He was still shaking like crazy, but Stan pinned that on the evident sleep deprivation as much as the suicide attempt. 

Ford pulled away, wiping at his eyes. The scientist winced hard as he moved his arms, however, as the movement and shaking had made the recent damage on his arms reopen.

Stan noticed the flinch, also noticing the red that came off on his brother’s fingers as he touched his forearm. 

“Ford, are you...are you bleeding?” 

Ford nodded weakly.  
“There’s a f-first aid kit on my desk. C-Can you grab it?” 

Stan nodded, standing hesitantly and stepping over to the desk. Coming back with the kit, he kneeled next to the scientist. 

Ford reached for the kit, but his hands were still shaking so much.

“Let me do it. You’re hurt. Let's get you bandaged up and then we can sit and talk about what happened, okay?” 

Ford nodded, slowly peeling his sleeves back and offering Stan his arms, looking away in shame. 

Stan felt his heart sink at the sight. Not only the more recent, obviously self-inflicted wounds but the countless old scars from both fights and older self-harm. He winced when the noticed the painful bands of barely-healed scar tissue wrapping around his wrists. There were small, vein-like lines peeling away from the main bands and stretching over a vast amount of his arms. 

He decided to handle that later and instead began to clean and bandage the damage. 

He gently placed his hand on the arm, trying to avoid any visibly open wounds. Ford flinched at the contact. Stan winced but continued.

He gently wiped down the still-bleeding ones with an alcohol pad, wrapping the cleaned ones and being careful not to reopen any.

Ford sat silently the whole time, shaking and crying but never looking at Stan. It seemed that everything was suddenly much more interesting than Stan, the walls, the floor, his feet. Anything to avoid making eye contact.

Once Ford’s arms were clean, Stan pulled his brother into another hug. 

“Jesus, poindexter. Never do that again. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you, Ford. You’re my twin and my best friend. My lifeline. I’d be lost if you died. Just...tell me, next time you feel like that.” Stanley murmured, burying his face in Ford’s messy hair, which somehow always smelled like pine needles. 

Ford whimpered slightly and rested his forehead on Stan’s chest, still shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

Eventually, the two pulled apart, though Stan kept a steady grip on Ford’s hands. 

The scientist’s eyes suddenly widened and he pulled his hand up to run through his hair, a telltale sign that he was anxious. 

Stan gave the hand he still held a comforting squeeze. 

“What’s wrong, sixer?” The con-man asked, keeping a careful eye to make sure that Ford’s hand didn’t start tearing at the hair it rested in. The elder twin finally looked up, meeting Stan’s worried gaze with his own panicked one.

“Stanley, the kids. They saw.” Ford’s hands somehow managed to shake even harder. “Oh god, Lee. They’ll never be able to look at me the same again. I’ll never be ‘Grunkle Ford, strong and brave and smart and able to protect us’, now I’ll just be ‘Stanford Pines, monumental fuck up and emotionally unstable wreck.’ I can’t face them after that, Stanley.” Ford covered his mouth to muffle any sound that may have escaped as he began to cry again. 

Stan grimaced and let his brother lean his head on his chest again, running his fingers through Ford’s hair and trying to keep himself from crying too. He began to rub comforting circles on the other’s back, something that always calmed him down when they were kids.

Stanley felt a sharp stab of guilt as he realized that he could feel Ford’s ribs through his shirt. He should have noticed this sooner. 

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he focused on the task ahead. 

Talking to the kids and getting to the root of what caused Ford’s spiral. 

Neither of those would be easy.


End file.
